darling!
by doitforaphrodite
Summary: in order for this story to make sense, there are two things you need to know about wendy carter-greene: 1. she always somehow comes second to peter parker. 2. she's never lost a bet. so when peter accidentally challenges her to become friends with spider-man, wendy knows she'll have to do anything it takes to win that bet. even if that means putting herself in harm's way.
1. danger!

It started in sixth grade.

Midtown Middle School held its annual talent show, encouraging students to demonstrate their unique skills. As always, the 2013 edition was full of mediocre singing and kids who were only on stage because of a dare. Wendy Carter-Greene was the second-to-last act of the night. The stage lights dimmed and soft classical music filled the air.

It was then Wendy delivered a stellar performance that still followed her four years later.

Wendy had always enjoyed dance. She began ballet when she was three. When she was five, she began to explore different types of dance. It was her thing. She was the dance and gymnastics girl. Whenever the class had a bit of a free session, everyone asked her to show her flexible she was. She delighted and disgusted many over the years with her contortion tricks.

The Midtown Middle School talent show was a big deal to Wendy. She had a bit of a reputation to uphold. Everyone agreed she was guaranteed to win. That didn't stop Wendy from pouring hours of work into a ballet-meets-hip-hop routine set to Lady Gaga's Telephone (featuring Beyonce.) She wanted it to be amazing.

And it was.

She received a standing ovation from every member of the audience. There really was nothing quite like watching a 4'3" girl do a series of aerials while Lady Gaga sings. Wendy felt like she was on top of the world. It truly seemed as if she had it in the bag.

Until Peter Parker stepped onto the stage and timidly recited _forty numbers of pi._

If you asked anyone, the judges were totally biased. Two of them were math teachers, one of whom was known in the school for her love of pi. Wendy liked to believe that bias was the only reason Peter Parker won first place in that stupid talent show. She was bitter, sure, but she quickly got over it. She had to admit his recitation was pretty impressive. However, it wasn't soon after that she began to notice a pattern.

Suddenly, she was always second place to Peter Parker.

First, it was some silly test review game in science class. Then it was marching band, followed by academic competitions, followed by bus rides. She was always just a point or two behind, or she missed one note he hit, or she wrote a bit slower than him, or the route just happened to be crafted so Peter was dropped off before her even though she lived closer to the school. It was infuriating. Peter Parker was somehow just naturally better than her. No matter how much work she put into something, he was better.

For a year or two, she told herself it wasn't his fault. She repeated the phrase like a mantra until she attended a photography contest and received second place. First place was Peter Parker.

It was then she became convinced he was after her, that he was doing this all on purpose. Photography had evolved into one of her things. Everyone knew that. Since when was Peter Parker into photography? He must have just taken it up so he could beat her at something else.

Everyone else thought he was so sweet and kind and innocent, but Wendy knew the truth. He was an asshole who was determined to make her life hell. His cute puppy dog appearance was just a mask to lure you in, give you a false sense of security. By eighth grade, Wendy was done falling for his little act.

Wendy's parents assured her he would get his comeuppance, that one day she'd be freed of him, but high school came and there he was again, sitting next to her in honors geometry. He always asked her if she needed help. God, he was so condescending. She could tell she made him nervous, though. She liked that, knowing she filled him with fear.

The pattern held. Peter Parker always one-upped her. He beat her out just the tiniest bit for the student decathlon team. Her science fair projects were never as good as his. Shit, even when her great-aunt passed away, the school social-sphere quickly moved on from consoling her to congratulating Peter Parker on his new internship with Tony Stark. She was broken and hurting and no one gave a shit because perfect Peter Parker proved he was better than everyone else once again.

So, really, she supposed this all made sense. All of the competitions and contests had led up to this moment. This moment of her surrounded on all sides by unfamiliar men with panic-inducing glints in their eyes and the flashing lights from the neon signs in the store windows hitting their gaunt faces in just the right way to make them look absolutely demonic. This moment of her armed with nothing but her small fists and a non-functional can of mace. She had told herself time and time again that she'd do anything to triumph over Peter Parker, and this bet they made, this challenge he swore he never initiated, was basically a death warrant. She knew that going in.

The danger didn't matter to Wendy Carter-Greene. It was the prize she yearned for that mattered. As long as she got to see the look on Peter Parker's face when she told him she won, she'd put herself through hell and back. She was a stubborn little girl who grew up with the idea that when the world tells you to move, you plant your feet. So the danger didn't matter to Wendy Carter-Greene. It didn't matter until she was stranded by herself on a street she'd never been down before even in the light of day with no around for miles who could possibly help her.

The danger didn't matter to Wendy Carter-Greene until she was smack dab in the middle of it.


	2. thwip!

Even Wendy had to admit this was partially her fault. Or maybe it was Liz Toomes's. Or Ned Leeds's. All she knew was that the majority of the blame rested on Peter Parker.

It all started in gym class last week when Ned blurted out that Peter knew Spider-Man. Wendy had scoffed and continued with her stretching. She knew in her heart it was some convoluted lie dreamt up to impress Liz, who was beautiful and kind and saw the good in everyone, even Peter, whom Wendy loathed. Still, when she heard the news Spider-Man was set to attend Liz's next party, she couldn't help but get her hopes up.

That party was her second party ever and it was kind of hell. Spider-Man never even showed up. Wendy wasn't all that surprised. She probably could've mostly let it go if that party wasn't an absolutely traumatic experience for her, but it was and so she was pissed. She only went to the stupid party because she was promised a real-life superhero and instead she received endless nightmares.

So when they all returned to school on Monday, Wendy made sure was vocal about her disappointment but lack of surprise. "I can't believe I let myself think it for a second," she had spat at Peter during lunch with the whole room watching them. "Of course Spider-Man wouldn't waste his time on someone like you."

Peter had scoffed and shot back, "Oh, and he'd be friends with you?"

"Is that a challenge, Parker?" she'd snapped and from that point forward it was on. She had two weeks to win the bet. If she won, Peter would have to publicly admit defeat as well as perform a short poem detailing Wendy's best qualities. If Peter won, Wendy had to go on a date with him, which was Ned's suggestion because Peter couldn't think of anything he wanted from her. Wendy gagged every time she thought about being somewhere private with Peter for more than thirty seconds.

She couldn't lose. Not again. Wendy was famous in the school for many things, one of which was her astute ability to win every bet issued. (She was also famous for her cheerleading status, one-handed-cartwheel record, and hating Peter Parker.) She wasn't about to let some jackass who had, mind you, already obliterated her previous reputations, demolish this one too. Wendy refused to let Peter take everything away from her.

She wondered what her parents would say when they found out. Her friends would probably tell them that she was only out that night to win that stupid bet, which wasn't true. She'd went to her third party ever to get her mind off the bet and off Peter, whose hair was always windswept nowadays and had definitely bulked up since last year, not that she'd noticed for any reasons other than developing a strategy to take him down. It was really just a coincidence that the night had gone like this, with her rather drunk and about to be stabbed and/or robbed and/or raped and/or kidnapped and/or drugged and/or killed or all of the above.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here."

They were frat boys, she observed. There were five of them and two of them were lettermen jackets. One wore an NYU sweatshirt. The other two were dressed in plain clothing that gave no indication as to who they were. All five of them were drunk. Well, six, really, if she was including herself. Everyone involved in this mess had had a few drinks.

She was so screwed.

"Look at her," NYU Sweatshirt chuckled. "She's a cheerleader."

Of all times to be approached by strange men late at night, she just had to be wearing her cheerleader's uniform. Logically, she knew it didn't matter what she was wearing. The situation would play out the same way. Still, maybe if she wasn't a cheerleader she never would've gone to that game and so she never would've been at that party and so she wouldn't be stumbling home at two in the morning.

"I've had a really long day," Wendy blurted. "I just wanna go home, please."

"Can we come with?" Shorter Letterman Jacket asked and the whole group crowed like it was the funniest joke in the world. She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her biceps with her hands in a futile attempt to create some warmth.

Graphic Tee smirked. "Need some help warming up?"

"I'm good, I just wanna go home," she reiterated. She'd learned once that sometimes if someone wasn't listening to your request or your argument, you just had to keep repeating yourself until they understood. It's called the broken record method. She knew the chances of it working were abysmal. These men were not just going to leave her alone.

"What's your name, pretty lady?" Graphic Tee inquired, moving closer. She stumbled back, but that only brought her towards Taller Letterman Jacket.

"Chloe," she lied. "Please, I-"

Polo Shirt cut her off with a wolf whistle. "Chloe the cheerleader. And you go to Midtown?"

"Midtown High School, yes." It probably wasn't the greatest idea to tell these guys what school she attended, but maybe they didn't realize she was underage. Maybe they thought she was a college kid like them. Maybe they would back off.

They didn't.

"The girls weren't as hot as you when I was in high school," Shorter Letterman Jacket said and apparently his friends found that hilarious. "I bet you're breaking all the boys' hearts."

"Not really," she replied, forcing some laughter. "I'm not allowed to date. Too young." The emphasis on her age meant nothing.

"Young, inexperienced, hot," Polo Shirt listed, licking his thin lips. "You're just our type, Chloe. Maybe we can show you the ropes, right boys?" The entire group giggled. Wendy didn't know what to do. She knew if she tried to run they'd catch her. She knew if she resisted they'd laugh. Her heart hammered in her chest. She had no options.

"I should be getting home, my dad's probably worried sick," she told them.

Taller Letterman shushed her and in the blink of an eye, grabbed her from behind. He pulled her flush to him, his face in the crook of her neck. He spoke just loud enough for his friends to hear. "Don't mention your dad, sweetheart. It's a buzzkill."

Wendy was out of time. She could not logic her way out of this. In fact, there was no way out of this. By daylight, she'd be dead or worse. She closed her eyes and reserved herself to her fate when a quiet noise caught her attention.

_Thwip!_


	3. holy shit!

Wendy's eyes widened. She recognized that _thwip_. She'd heard it thousands of times in grainy videos shot on phones, the camera zoomed in to catch a look at the man in red and blue. Her heartbeat ricocheted throughout her entire body as she began to search the rooftops for a glimpse. The frat boys must've heard it too, because their heads were turning every which way. Taller Letterman Jacket's grip on her tightened in anticipation of a fight.

The _thwip_ sounded again, but much closer. All six ducked instinctively. Then, in the blink of an eye, he landed in the center of their circle. He wore a new suit that clung to him like a second skin. His goggles had been replaced with black and white eye-shaped patches that reacted to his eyelid movements. This new suit seemed to be quite the upgrade.

Wendy couldn't help but notice that it also made his ass look fantastic.

Spider-Man turned to face her and squinted. "Well, this doesn't look consensual." Wendy attempted to throw herself forward, but Taller Letterman Jacket wasn't planning on letting go any time soon. Instead of freeing herself, it seemed she freed her arms from their sockets. Joy. She cried out in pain as Taller Letterman Jacket wretched her back towards him.

"We're just having a bit of fun," Graphic Tee chuckled. "No problem here, Mr. Spider-Man."

Wendy finally found her voice. "Help me. Please." Spider-Man shot her a wink and shot a web into Taller Letterman Jacket's face. Taller Letterman Jacket stumbled back with a shriek, attempting to pry the web off of him but only becoming further entangled in the process. Graphic Tee and Polo Shirt ran forward to help their friend but within seconds, they were glued to the nearest brick wall. Shorter Letterman Jacket ran but couldn't escape before Spider-Man webbed him to a lamppost. NYU Sweatshirt attempted to sneak away but was easily dispatched with a web that pinned him to the concrete sidewalk.

Wendy watched the scuffle in a mixture of awe and scientific fascination. Watching Spider-Man fight was quite the experience. It seemed so effortless for him. She wondered what kind of training he underwent in order to learn how to best use his abilities. When all of the men were incapacitated and he'd written his signature note, he hurried to her side and scanned her for injuries.

"Are you okay?" Spider-Man asked. Wendy nodded quickly but seemed unable to speak. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "What's your name?"

"Wendy," she answered. Her voice shook. She tried to stifle a sob. Her vision grew blurrier no matter how many tears she blinked away. A cry caught in her throat and she threw herself into Spider-Man's arms. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight.

"You're safe now," he whispered. He held her until she ran out of tears. His shoulder was soaked. She blushed and cleared her throat. Great. She had just snotted all over her favorite superhero. Tonight was truly amazing.

Spider-Man's hands stayed on her shoulders as if keeping her steady. "Do you need a ride home?" She bobbed her head. Her sensories were overloaded. She could barely think. Her train of thought consisted mostly of, _Holy shit!_

"Hold onto me," he advised. Wendy didn't hesitate in securing her arms around his waist. She was suddenly struck with the realization that Spider-Man was ripped. She could feel his muscles through his suit.

Wendy realized he was waiting. He was waiting for her to give the okay. She smiled and squeezed him slightly. "I'm holding on." She wondered what his face looked like underneath his mask. What was he thinking about-

HOLY SHIT THEY'RE FLYING!

A gasp escaped Wendy. She clung to him desperately and buried her face in his shoulder. This was a terrible idea. Wendy hated heights. Spider-Man kept one arm around her as he swung them through the air. As they went, she kept finding more problems.

For instance, it was absolutely freezing and all Wendy had on was her cheerleader uniform. It was also nauseating. She was almost definitely going to hurl when she got home. Additionally, it was a lot like being on a rollercoaster. She hated rollercoasters. She told herself if she survived this trip, it was proof she had nothing to be afraid of. She decided to think of this as extreme exposure therapy.

"Uh, where am I going?" Spider-Man screamed over the air whipping past them.

"Brooklyn," she yelled back. "Three blocks South from Midtown High." She gathered all the courage within her short body and looked down. The streets were actually starting to look familiar.

A laugh pushed past Wendy's lips. She threw her head back and let out a weird guttural sound that she knew meant she was actually kind of enjoying herself. Spider-Man joined in her celebratory exclamations until they reached her block.

He landed them on the roof of a brick building that Wendy knew housed a lawyer's private practice. She stumbled a bit when her feet touched the ground, but he held her steady. Her hair was a complete mess and she was sure a decent amount of people caught a glimpse of her panties.

She wondered if he'd think she was insane if she asked to go around the block one more time.

"Which building?" Spider-Man questioned. She pointed across the road and a little bit down the street to a tall brownstone wedged between a cafe and a pharmacy.

"There's a fire escape outside my bedroom window on the second floor," she shared, unable to stop grinning. She was quick to latch onto him once more. It took two swings to land on her fire escape.

Wendy stepped back from the man in red and blue and took a seat on her windowsill. "Thank you, Spider-Man. I don't know how I could ever repay you."

"You don't have to repay me," he chuckled. "I'm a hero, it's what I do. You know what, though, you can do me a favor."

"What?" she inquired cautiously. She was extremely grateful, yes, but she wasn't going to give him a blowjob if that's what he was going for.

He touched her shoulder. "Stay out of trouble."

"It's not like I went out looking for trouble," she argued with an eye roll.

Sheepishly, he said, "I know, but maybe wandering down dark streets by yourself in the middle of the night isn't the greatest idea." She must've been exhausted because this elicited a hearty chuckle from her. It wasn't even funny. Maybe it just finally sunk in how absolutely absurd this was, that she'd just been saved by a man in a red and blue jumpsuit who then brought her home by way of web-slinging.

"Be careful, Spider-Man," she said. Her voice was so quiet, she wasn't sure if he heard her at first. He laughed in response. She ducked her head bashfully (and to hide a bright red blush) and just like that, he was gone.


	4. hey!

Wendy spent a lot of time in her own head.

She thought of it as her curse. She was intelligent and agile and flexible and talented. She learned new skills fairly quickly and she was aware she was rather pretty. She had great skin and her family was well off.

On the other hand, her communication skills were absolute shit. She was horrendous at social interactions. It wasn't that she had particularly bad social anxiety. She was quiet and awkward. She could never find the right words. Thus, she chose to keep her speaking to a minimum and invested more time in her thoughts. Wendy was only ever loud when cheerleading.

Or when arguing with Peter Parker.

So while others might've screamed and told the world that they met Spider-Man, Wendy kept it to herself. She didn't even tell her best friends.

"She's doing it again," Erin said. She and Angie were cheerleaders like Wendy. Margot and MJ were the only ones in their group who weren't on the squad. The five of them sat now at their usual lunch table.

Angie flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Is it just me or is it worse today?"

"I can hear you," Wendy spoke, her gaze trained on her yogurt.

"Then act like it," Margot teased, nudging the blonde with her elbow. The Latina threw her arm around Wendy's shoulders. "You okay, kid? You look shaken up."

"I'm fine," Wendy lied. She hadn't gotten any sleep last night. She couldn't stop thinking about the difference between Taller Letterman Jacket's hold on her and Spider-Man's arm around her waist.

MJ narrowed her eyes. "Bullshit. Did something happen last night?"

Wendy shook her head. "No, I swear. I was just thinking about this fanfic I read last night-"

"If it wasn't the Supergirl fic I sent you, I don't want to hear it," Margot interjected. Wendy giggled. Margot was always sending her links to fanfics that usually centered around LGBT+ ships. They were always well-written, so she didn't mind.

The blonde girl shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mar. I was in a Harry Potter mood."

"Nerds," Angie fake-coughed into her fist.

MJ scoffed. "Like you don't spend your nights reading smutty Vampire Diaries fics." The other girls laughed. If anyone that wasn't in their group made that joke, they'd be planning a murder.

Angie pouted. "Damn. I feel exposed." She sighed and remained graceful in the face of her friends' giggles. "Are you sure you're good, Wen? Did you get home okay?"

"Yeah," Wendy replied and she was really only half-lying. She got home safe...eventually.

Erin frowned. "You know we're here for you, right?" Wendy bobbed her head vigorously. Her friends exchanged looks. They didn't believe her. They knew her too well.

Margot cleared her throat, sensing this conversation wasn't heading anywhere. "So, how you planning on winning your bet with Peter?" She gestured to the boy who sat a few feet down with her head.

Wendy shrugged. Really, she already won. But she knew the consequences of broadcasting what happened last night to the whole school. Maybe she could get Peter alone and tell him then. It was the safest bet.

She waited for sixth period. That was when they had robotics together. When he asked to go to the bathroom, she waited a minute to ask to go too. Their robotics teacher was fairly lenient so she was out within seconds.

She waited by the boys' bathroom for Peter to come out. She felt absolutely ridiculous. She just wanted to get it done and over with. The sooner the bet was won, the sooner she could move on and lock away everything that happened into a little box and tuck it away in the darkest recesses of her mind. It wasn't the healthiest plan, but she wasn't sure what else she could do. Tell her parents? Get a therapist? Go to the cops? Say, "Hey, these guys tried to rape me last night but Spider-Man interrupted and then we swung through the air and he took me home."

Wendy checked her watch, a gift from her great-aunt. It'd been five minutes and Peter had yet to come out of the bathroom. She furrowed her brow. How long did it to take for him to piss? She noticed a boy approaching. She couldn't remember his name for the life of her, but she still waved at him like he was an old friend.

"Hey, could you check if Peter Parker is in there for me?" she asked sweetly. "Mr. Spotnik wants him back in class." The boy nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. About a minute later, he poked his head out.

"No one's in here," the boy announced before ducking back inside. Wendy frowned. She did a quick sweep of the girls' bathroom (she had to admit there was a lot she didn't know about Peter) but came up empty. Did he go to the bathroom across the school? That wasn't like him. A frustrated sigh escaped her as she trekked back to class. She'd just have to track him down later.

When the final bell rung, she ran out of class and headed straight for Peter's locker, which just so happened to be across the hall from hers. She leaned on the blue door, arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was bound in a messy bun that dug into her skull when she rested her head back. Luckily, there was no game today, so she didn't have to put on her cheerleader uniform. She planned on washing it at least four times to cleanse it.

Peter finally appeared around the corner. When he saw her, his features twisted into a scowl. She smirked and tilted her head. It took him a minute to reach her. She batted her eyelids. "Parker."

"What do you want, Greene?" he shot back. A twinge of annoyance stabbed her stomach. She preferred Carter over Greene and he knew that which was precisely why he called her Greene.

She shook it off and moved so he could get into his locker. "I thought it might interest you to know I won our bet." He froze. Her smirk returned with brand new vigor. Yes! It was all worth it! She beat Peter Parker!

"Why should I believe you?" he asked.

Wendy scoffed. "Aren't you buddy-buddy with Spider-Man? Ask him about the cute cheerleader he picked up last night. I'm sure he'll remember. I make a lasting impression." She winked and he gagged. She giggled. God, she loved this. This was a high she would be chasing for the rest of her life.

She patted his cheek. "I hope you've learned your lesson. You shouldn't bet against me, Parker."


	5. check-up!

Wendy wasn't expecting to ever see Spider-Man again.

She was sitting at her desk, finishing up some honors physics homework. Her laptop was open to a blank document in which she was going to craft her poem that Peter would read to the school. Her brain felt muddied. Her ears were clogged with the night before's dialogue.

_Look at her. She's a cheerleader._

Her stomach churned and her gaze drifted to her uniform. It lay crumpled by her hamper. Looking at it made her feel ill. She turned back to her homework. She only had three questions left, but she couldn't think.

_Young, inexperienced, hot. You're just our type Chloe. Maybe we can show you the ropes, right boys?_

She dropped her pencil and evaluated her hands. They were shaking desperately. Her heartbeat was rising. _You're just our type Chloe._ She couldn't breathe. A scream crawled up her throat, itching to be let loose upon her otherwise empty house. She was home alone. _Can we come with?_

A stifled version of the shriek building up in her chest was ripped from her mouth when a series of soft knocks sounded at her window. She spun to face none other than Spider-Man. He was crouched on her fire escape. Their gazes locked and he waved. She blinked rapidly. She couldn't believe her eyes. Spider-Man had returned to her bedroom window.

Why?

She jumped up and ran to the window. She fumbled with the locks momentarily but managed to get it open. She still hadn't put back the netting and so he clambered inside with ease. Wendy didn't think twice about letting him in her room. He was a superhero. He saved her from those men last night.

She trusted him.

"I just wanted to check in on you," he said. He stood awkwardly in the middle of her room. She took a seat on her bed and patted the space beside her. He plopped down next to her, close enough so their limbs brushed. "How are you doing?"

"Bad," she answered honestly. "I'm constantly shaking and I'm scared and I can't sleep and I keep hearing their voices and feeling his hands on me." She held out her hands in front of her to demonstrate how she was quivering. He cautiously took her hands in his. They were bigger than hers. She wondered if all superheroes had an inane ability to make people feel safe.

He squeezed her hands. "They're in police custody. They'll never hurt you again." He moved one hand under her chin and lifted her head so their eyes met. "I won't let them, darling."

Wendy released a shaky laugh. "Darling?"

"Like Wendy Darling," he explained. Was he blushing? She felt like he was blushing under his mask.

"Does that make you my Peter Pan?" she asked, batting her eyelashes. Now he was definitely blushing. He forced a chuckle from his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. She giggled softly. She was weirdly enjoying imagining his facial expressions. For a moment, there was silence, and Wendy was left to internally debate if she'd truly become friends with Spider-Man.

She tentatively laid her head on his shoulder. "Thank you for checking up on me. You didn't have to, but I really appreciate it."

Spider-Man rested his head on hers. "I felt bad about last night like I just rushed off on you."

"You did," Wendy replied, "but I understood. You're a superhero. You can't waste your time with pretty blonde cheerleaders who are perfectly safe in their homes." He laughed, an action that shook his whole body.

"I feel like you're kicking me out," he said. She pulled away and smiled. Wendy was often told she had a nice smile. She hoped her nice smile made him feel as warm as his touch made her feel. If this was what being friends with Spider-Man was like, she liked it very much.

She patted his cheek. "Just a little bit. I pride myself on not being selfish, so I'm not going to keep you any longer. Go on, Pan. Go save a cat from a tree or a child from a sewer. Go be a hero." She ran a finger over his mask. She could feel his lips. He was grinning. She quickly tucked her hands under her thighs. She knew if she didn't stop tracing his features now, she would never stop, and well...

There was a reason he wore a mask.

She stood. One hand still held his and so she tugged him over to her window. Holding hands with him was nice and it wasn't just because his suit was very soft. His hands were good for holding, she observed. She opened the window and leaned on the sill. She didn't want to say goodbye. She wanted to ask him questions and listen to his stories. She was sure his mind held a wealth of fascinating information. She hoped he'd come back...for scientific reasons, of course.

He was half out the window when he paused and looked back. "Would you mind if I continued checking up on you?"

"Stop by anytime," she blurted. Blushing, she cleared her throat and added, "I'm showing early signs of an anxiety disorder. I think it would be best for you to keep an eye on me, just in case."

"Well, until next time, Darling," Spider-Man said.

She tilted her head. "Be careful, Pan."

This time, she watched him leave. He moved at an impressive speed. Had he slowed down last night just for her? Once she was sure he was gone and she wasn't going to miss anything by looking away, she returned to her honors physics homework. Her mental block had withered to dust. She could finally think again. She finished her work quickly, her smile never leaving her face.


	6. panic!

Wendy finally cornered Peter Parker during third period.

It was completely by chance that they were at the bathrooms at the same time. Wendy figured it was a sign. She didn't waste time in calling out Peter's name and dragging him off to the side. He seemed more annoyed than usual to see her. She liked that.

"I finished the poem," she announced proudly. His brow furrowed. She rolled her eyes and added, "The poem you're going to read to the entire school that names every one of my positive attributes." His face dropped. Her smile returned.

"I thought I was supposed to write that," he mumbled.

Wendy raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Please tell me you have a rough draft."

He grinned. "Actually, I couldn't come up with anything." She scowled. Well, she walked right into that one. She puckered her lips and flipped her hair over her shoulder. She was suddenly struck by the realization that she didn't have a witty retort. Even weirder, she didn't care that she didn't have a witty retort. Her subconscious was focused on whether the frat boys would actually get convicted without a victim or witness. The police usually took Spider-Man's captures and notes fairly seriously, but attempted rape? Rape was barely taken seriously as it was.

"Chloe?"

Her heart dropped to her feet. Oh my god. They were here. They found her. This was it. They were going to take her and kill her. It wasn't like her or Peter Parker would be able to stop them. Would they even have time to scream? She could already feel Taller Letterman Jacket's arms around her, squeezing the life out of her. The air was sucked from her lungs as a scream scraped the top of her mouth, begging to be released.

"Hey, Wendy!"

She blinked and realized it was still just her and Peter in the hallway. The frat boys were nowhere to be seen. It was all in her head. That 'Chloe' was probably a misinterpretation of Peter saying 'Wendy.' She shook her head as if clearing cobwebs and was about to force a laugh when she realized she was crying.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked. He'd moved closer to her, but seemed hesitant to touch her. It was a good thing he hadn't. She'd probably lose her shit. She rubbed her eyes but when she opened them, this horrible situation was still playing out. Shit. What was she supposed to say? 'Yeah, I actually won the bet by nearly getting raped and now I'm traumatized!'

She cleared her throat. "I'm fine. I've just been missing Aunt Peggy more than usual lately."

Peter shifted nervously. "I-I never got a chance to tell you, but I saw the speech you made at her funeral - it was beautiful."

"Thanks," Wendy replied, her tone flat. "I'll email you the poem." With her head down, she fled back to her third-period class which, thankfully, was full of people who were perfectly content to ignore her sobbing at her desk.

* * *

Wendy was about to go to bed when Spider-Man appeared at her window.

She was much quicker about letting him in this time. She made sure he knew to be quiet because her parents were home and her dad would probably have seventeen consecutive heart attacks if he thought she had a _boy_ in her room. They sat on her bed again, but at the head, not the foot.

Wendy was suffocating her old stuffed animal, trying to drain any comfort or semblance of innocence from the worn elephant. Her back was against her stack of pillows and her legs were tucked under her blanket. She was in the middle of the full mattress. Spider-Man sat closer to her feet in a criss-cross position, his hands laying lamely in his lap.

"I think I had a panic attack today," she divulged as she stared at the ceiling.

"What happened?" he asked. She could hear the concern in his voice and she wondered why. Why did he seem to care about her so much? Why did he keep showing up here? Why was she so drawn to him? Why did she want him to hold her in his arms like he did that night?

She sighed. "I was in the hallway with Peter Parker. Hey, is he really your friend?"

"Oh, yeah," Spider-Man said quickly. "Yeah, you know, he's a pretty cool dude. I-I met him through Iron Man, so." He nonchalantly shrugged.

"Huh." Wendy tilted her head. So Peter wasn't lying just to get in Liz Allan's pants. "Anyway, I was standing in the hallway with him during third period because we had a bet, and I won, and so his punishment is he has to recite a poem detailing my greatest features to the school-"

"Who wrote the poem?" Spider-Man asked.

"I did."

She knew he was grinning as he said, "I could've written it for you." She stifled laughter and nudged him with her foot.

"Anyway, we were talking and he said something douchey and I was supposed to say something back but I just started thinking about those boys and conviction rates for rape cases and then I thought I heard them and my heart started racing and I couldn't breathe and I was sure I was going to die. And then it was over and I was crying." The words rushed out of her mouth so quickly she thought her lungs might shrivel from a high oxygen output combined with a low input.

Spider-Man moved forward and gripped her shoulders. "Hey, darling, I will go down to that station myself and-and make a witness statement. I'm not gonna let them get away." Within a moment, his arms were wrapped tightly around her. She buried her face in his neck and hugged him back, her arms around his neck. He shifted to her side. Her leg found its way between his and his hands rubbed her back. Neither said a word. They stayed like that until Wendy fell asleep.


	7. yikes!

They say it takes 21 days to form a new habit.

Wendy knew that wasn't true. Depending on the habit one is attempting to form, it can take anywhere from 21 days to 254 or maybe even longer. She figured it took about a week for Spider-Man's check-ins to become a habit. She started leaving her window ajar just enough for him to get in. He usually came in the afternoon, a little after school but before nightfall. The first two days, they just sat in silence, unsure what to do or say. The third day he came in while she was struggling to finish a sudoku puzzle and so they spent the next three days working on finishing her book of puzzles. On the sixth day, he brought her a churro and they people-watched from her fire escape.

On the seventh day, he found her crying at the foot of her bed.

"What's wrong?" he'd asked. He was by her side in an instant. Her laptop rested on her knees. The screen was bright, the light catching every tear that crawled down her cheeks. He followed her gaze to the glaring headline. It took a moment for him to understand.

* * *

**FRAT BOYS ARRESTED BY THE SPIDER-MAN EXONERATED DUE TO LACK OF WITNESS**

_by Iris Granger_

Erik Chambers, Matthew Kingston, Chase Graziano, Thomas Schuetz, and Nathan Wallis were arrested two weeks ago by the Spider-Man. His signature note claimed they harassed and attempted to rape a sixteen-year-old girl. Police took them in for questioning. The boys, all betas at Sigma Kappa Nu, were exceptionally compliant. They told police Spider-Man 'misread the situation' and they were just 'giving the girl directions.'

No details are known about the alleged victim. Without a statement from the victim, the police have virtually no choice but to clear the boys of all charges. It seems like Spidey's word isn't enough to put criminals behind bars anymore. More details to follow.

* * *

"They're gonna get away with it," Wendy whispered. She didn't have the strength to raise her voice. Deep down, she knew the police wouldn't do anything - couldn't do anything. When it comes to rape, blame is always placed on the victim. She clenched her fists. She hated being a victim.

"No, no, they won't," Spider-Man insisted. He seemed panicky. "No, I'll go down to the station and give a-a witness statement."

Wendy smiled through her tears. "Thank you, but it won't matter."

"You don't know that!" he shot back. She shushed him quickly. Her mom was working from home today. He jumped up and started pacing a hole in her floor. She watched him brainstorm and blubber. He was so naive for a superhero. He had to know not every bad guy gets put away. If that were the case, maybe the world wouldn't need superheroes.

She sighed and laid her head back against the mattress. "I think I'd like to be alone now." He froze. Slowly, he turned to face her. She lifted her head to meet his gaze. They were silent for a moment. The only sounds were the whirring of Wendy's computer and the city ambiance seeping in through the cracked open window.

She expected him to push her, ask her more questions, refuse to leave her. Instead, he shook his head and headed for the window. Before he left, he said, "I'll fix this." He sounded close to tears. He opened the window just enough to get through, slipped out, and then he was gone. She closed and locked the window behind him. She picked her laptop off the floor and flopped down on her bed.

A knock sounded at her door. "Wendy? You okay in there?"

"I'm fine, Mom," she lied, plugging in her headphones. She clamped them over her ears and opened her project. It was a track she composed all by herself. She played it on a loop while she sobbed into her pillow.

* * *

"The patriarchy strikes again!"

Wendy wished Margot would shut up. She loved the fiery Latina, but goddamn, she did not want to think about those frat boys and that night and their hands on her. She wanted to pretend it was all just a weirdly vivid nightmare. She wanted to leave it behind.

Unfortunately, her entire friend group was composed of passionate feminists and Margot was the loudest of them all.

"The police never take rape seriously!" Margot crowed, slamming her fist on the table. "It needs to end!"

Angie made a face. "Honestly, I don't think it's their fault this time. It was attempted, and they didn't have a victim or witness to interview." Angie's parents were both cops and so she tended to stand up for the police force. She wasn't hesitant to admit when they were in the wrong, however, and she'd readily joined Erin's initiative to end police violence.

Wendy managed a grin. All of her friends were such good eggs.

"It's still messed up," Michelle spoke up, dipping a french fry in honey mustard. "I mean, Spider-Man doesn't just arrest people for no reason."

Angie nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, I know, but Spider-Man isn't the system."

"I bet he's black," Erin said suddenly. They all looked at her. She shrugged. "Spider-Man. I bet he's a cute black boy with a tight ass."

Margot shook her head. "Nah, he's white. In some of the videos I've watched where you can hear his voice a little, he sounds white."

"He's definitely white," Wendy added absent-mindedly. It took her a moment to realize they were waiting for her to elaborate, to give evidence. She froze. She wanted to keep Spidey to herself. She didn't want to share him. If she kept it secret, maybe she could pretend he was her own personal superhero.

Besides, they would ask how she met him, and she couldn't answer that.

Wendy pulled a lie out of her ass. "He gave me directions the night of the party. I didn't tell you guys?"

"No you didn't, you little whore," Erin snapped playfully. They giggled.

"So you won the bet with Peter?" Angie asked, stabbing her fork into her salad.

Wendy paused and thought about Spider-Man's arms wrapped around her body, holding her close, keeping her safe. His voice, desperate and strained, as he struggled to find a way to fix this fucking disaster Wendy called her life. She thought about her new routine of cracking her bedroom window as soon as she got home. She thought about running her finger over his lips, discovering the shape of his face.

She nodded. "Yeah, I guess so."


	8. poetry in motion!

"Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?"

Erin and Angie plopped down on either side of Wendy, who closed her book and prepared for the worst. Her thoughts raced, trying to find a way out of this confrontation. Wendy was horrific with confrontation.

Angie laid a hand on Wendy's arm and tilted her head. "You've been skipping dance practice and you haven't been to cheer practice in ages." Wendy froze. Her heart was trying to break out of her ribcage, pushing against the bones and rattling the surrounding organs. She hadn't been to dance because dance was essentially the same crowd as cheer, and she hadn't been to cheer because cheer meant putting on that uniform again and she wasn't ready for that.

"Did something happen the night of the party?" Erin asked. It was so obvious something was wrong with Wendy that Erin didn't even feel the need to specify which party. They all knew the one she was talking about. The party that Wendy left early, drunk and alone, even though several people insisted on walking her home. The party that Wendy could barely remember because the party was just the precursor to those frat boys and their eyes glinting in the dim lights.

Wendy wasn't sure what to say and, as it turned out, she didn't have to say anything, because Michelle and Margot took their spots opposite the trio and Margot was in full-on rant mode. "Y'know, they're releasing those frat boys today."

"I don't want to think about that," Angie said dismissively, unknowingly echoing the words playing on repeat in Wendy's head. "Just let me be naive and believe that they're telling the truth and Spider-Man misinterpreted the situation. It's the only way I'll be able to sleep at night."

Guilt and anger crashed over Wendy like a tidal wave. _They're liars__,_ she wanted to scream. _I'm sorry Angie but they're lying. Spider-Man saved me._ But screaming meant outing herself as the victim. Screaming meant the little semblance of normality she had left turning to ash before her eyes. The scream built in her throat, the words creating such pressure she thought her esophagus might burst.

And then Peter Parker climbed onto the table, a Midtown High cheer squad megaphone in hand. Wendy's eyes brightened. That could only mean one thing.

Applause exploded throughout the cafeteria. Everyone knew about the bet right now and so they knew that Peter's stunt meant he'd lost. The lunchroom quieted so they could better hear the poem Wendy had spent about half an hour on. Her friends fought giggles, Wendy's personality shift and the frat boys having been momentarily forgotten. Peter looked around and locked gazes with Wendy. She waved, waggling her fingers in a teasing manner. He just smiled.

He cleared his throat and tapped his phone screen to prevent it from going to sleep. "There's Wendy's, of fast-food fame, and Wendy Darling, we all know her name. But the greatest Wendy of all walks amongst us in the hall. Wendy Carter-Greene, you may think she's from a dream. But she's real and she's a beaut. Just one look and I go mute. She's beauty and grace, she's fire and ice, and despite her clear superiority, she's actually quite nice."

Erin nudged Wendy and whispered, "You wrote this?"

"No," Wendy hissed, eyes narrowed. "He's not performing the poem I wrote, which was so much better than this shit. He's such an asshole. Why can't he just let me win?"

Michelle leaned over the table and grabbed Wendy's arm. "Wait, Peter wrote this?" Wendy shrugged. Suddenly, whispers spread the cafeteria like wildfire, all with a similar theme. _Peter wrote the poem. Peter wrote it. He likes her. Peter likes Wendy! Are you sure he likes her? He has to, how else could he write the poem? Oh, my God, Peter likes Wendy!_

Wendy's blood ran cold. Peter froze as if he knew what everyone was saying. He locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket. He raised the megaphone to his lips once more, his grip much tighter. "Uh, in conclusion, Wendy's great and I'm terrible. The end."

It didn't matter. The idea had wormed its way into their brains. It would nestle there and grow like a parasite, implanting false thoughts and new interpretations of memories. _Y'know, they'd actually be really cute together. Totally! Remember when Wendy shoved Peter in the hallway and he grabbed her hand and they fell down together? They're my new OTP._

Wendy wanted to die. This was her worst nightmare. Something she'd always liked about her feud with Peter was no one ever mistaken it for something it wasn't. It was simple: Wendy hated Peter and Peter hated Wendy. That was it, but now? Suddenly, now it's _Remember when so-and-so happened? They've totally liked each other this entire time!_

Shaking, she gathered her things and ran from the cafeteria. She'd finish her lunch in Ms. Creevy's room. She avoided looking at anyone. It was official: her life fucking sucked.


	9. details!

Ms. Creevy didn't question or mind Wendy hiding in her room for the rest of the day.

Ms. Creevy was a short, stout woman who was often mistaken to be mean. She had a curt, dry sense of humor and she enjoyed using sarcasm to get her points across. Although quite a few students thought she was a total bitch, they all generally liked her because she let them curse and she hated the stuffy old books on the curriculum just as much as them. She even let them call her Creevy and Creeves.

Even hidden away in the room of one of her favorite teachers, it took everything within Wendy not to cry.

She knew if she cried Creevy wouldn't judge, but fuck, she was so sick of crying. She'd been crying ever since that goddamn party, ever since those boys laid eyes on her. Those boys who weren't just Taller Letterman Jacket or Polo Shirt anymore. They had names now, entire faces. They weren't just her demons now. They were people, people who had hurt her and were getting away with it.

Wendy was blessed enough that a decent amount of her coursework was online, a part of the school's initiative to be green and help the environment. As long as she kept her laptop charged, she could get her work done. It was almost like she didn't miss anything. It was almost like everything was normal. As long as she didn't pull up that tab with that article on it, she was fine.

Eventually, her classmates filed in for last period English. Wendy took her usual seat beside Erin, who immediately threw her arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. The two girls exchanged looks. Wendy's heart warmed, knowing the furrowing of Erin's eyebrows and the narrowing of her eyes and tightening of her jaw meant her friend was willing to fight for her. If anyone talked shit, they'd have to go through her, and despite Erin's somewhat short stature, she was quite terrifying.

"You guys are going to love this next assignment," Creevy said. A few of the rowdier students let out cheers. Wendy tried to pretend she couldn't feel Peter's eyes on her.

Creevy hopped onto her desk, her legs dangling. "Alright, assholes. We're more than halfway through the year and I still don't know some of your names." The class giggled. "I wish I was kidding. I barely know anything about you guys because when you write, it's all so technical. Even your creative writings tend to follow a formula. I'm obviously not talking to you, Wendy, aka the only one in this class who was ever impressed me." Erin whooped and clapped. Wendy ducked her head, her cheeks burning red.

Flash Thompson spoke up from towards the back of the classroom, "I don't know, Creeves. I think you'd be mighty impressed if you saw one of Parker's poems." Her classmates snickered and her heart sank. Wendy balled her hands into fists. Stupid Peter Parker. Why couldn't he just read the poem she'd written for him? Why did he attempt one of his own?

Unless it wasn't his own. She was suddenly faced with a realization that explained everything. She'd told Spider-Man about the poem. He said he would write it for her. Peter was friends with Spider-Man, right? What if Spider-Man wrote the poem and gave it to Peter to read? She'd have to ask when he swung by later. If he swung by later.

Did Spider-Man write that poem? The very idea caused a flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

"Wendy, did you hear the assignment?"

The blonde jolted and nearly fell out of her chair. Creevy now stood right by her desk, an eyebrow raised. Wendy ran her fingers through her hair. "Uh, no, sorry."

"It's fine, you're still my favorite," Creevy said nonchalantly. "I want to know all about you. Literally, just tell me about yourselves. In fact, I want the first line to be, Hello, my name is blah-blah. All you have to do to get a good grade on this thing is write it, meet the page requirement, follow the given format, follow the rules of grammar, and turn it on time. It's easy. After all, your generation loves to talk about themselves, right?" That line only got a few half-hearted chuckles.

Creevy shrugged. "I know I'm not funny. Anyway, you have the rest of class to write this bitch. It's due next class. Let the writing commence!" The room was full of shuffling as the students dug their computers out of their bags. A low murmur fell over them, friends talking to each other in hushed tones.

"This sucks," Erin grumbled. "I'm so boring. What am I supposed to write about?"

"You're not boring," Wendy chastised, elbowing her. "You're wonderful." The girls shared a warm smile. Wendy created a new document, set up her MLA heading, and typed her hook.

_Hello, my name is Wendy Margaret Carter-Greene._

Well, that was her first sentence done.

She tapped her fingers on the desk. What next? She pursed her lips and added, _I am sixteen-years-old__._ Brilliant. Somewhere, JK Rowling was quaking. Wendy fought a groan. Maybe Erin was right. Maybe this assignment was going to suck.

After all, what was there to say? _Hey, I'm Wendy and my life sucks! Not only did I recently lose my Aunt Peggy, who I spent a lot of my childhood and who's responsible for about 79% of my personality, but I also was nearly raped! The boys who tried to rape me are in police custody, but they're being released today._

It didn't make for the most cheerful essay.

But Wendy didn't have a cheerful life. Wendy's life was awful. The world was cruel and she had clearly pissed it off in a past life. It wanted her broken and bitter and miserable. Well, it had her right where it wanted her. She was miserable and bitter and broken. To anyone who knew all the details, the idea of her smiling would be ridiculous.

And yet, when that little voice in the back of her head reminded her to open her window when she got home, she couldn't help but grin.


	10. homework!

at some point in this chapter, I'm going to recommend you start playing 'never be the same' by camila cabello. i really hope the timing works out. enjoy the chapter ;)

* * *

When Wendy got home, she cracked the window in her room first, then got a snack and started her homework.

She was splayed out on her bed, halfway through her algebra II homework. Her hair was pulled into a sloppy bun, a spare pencil stuck behind her ear. Her notes were open to her left and her snack, apple slices, bread, and cheese, was sitting on her right. She had one earbud in. She was listening to some k-pop girl group Angie had recommended. She looked serene save for her puckered lips and furrowed brow.

By the time she was done with algebra II, her elbows were sore from propping her up. She moved on, glancing at the window. What time was it? Was it time for Spider-Man to come around? Would he come around? What if he avoided her because of everything that was happening? She didn't want to think about that.

Finally, all she had left to do was her essay, tentatively titled Introducing Me. She cleaned up her snack and put away her folders. She was maybe sort of totally putting off writing the essay. She didn't want to write about herself. She didn't want to think about the things she'd been through.

She checked the time. Spider-Man usually came around by now. Was he mad at her? Was he mad at himself? She was nibbling away at the dead cells and lipstick on her bottom lip when he showed up at her window. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding in. Not everything was a complete disaster.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, limbo-ing into her room with a churro in each hand. "I thought I'd grab us a snack."

"Come on, sit," she beckoned, patting the spot right beside her. He plopped down, nearly knocking her laptop off the bed. He managed to stop its fall with his foot. She let herself laugh and relax. She was safe now. She was with her Peter Pan.

He passed her her churro and tugged his mask up over his mouth so he could eat. She froze for a moment. She could see his jaw, the milkiness of his skin, a tiny scar on his chin. She could see his lips. They were fairly thin. She couldn't stop looking at them. She'd felt them before, over his mask, but now his lips were out for the world to see. For _her_ to see. He trusted her.

"I have kind of a weird question to ask," she blurted, scooting closer to him so their knees touched.

"Ask away, darling," he replied around a mouthful of his churro. She took a bite of her own - it was surprisingly warm.

She chewed, then swallowed, then looked directly into his eyes. "Did you write the poem Peter read at lunch today?" He smiled. She could see his smile. It was adorable.

"How could you tell?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Well, you said you could write it for me and I know Peter hates me as much as I hate him so there's no way in hell he could've written it." Spidey finished his churro but left his mouth uncovered. Her heartbeat quickened.

"Why do you two hate each other anyway?" he questioned, raising his hand to wipe a crumb from the corner of her lips. Wendy bit her lip. His mouth was so close to hers. Why was it so close? Why didn't she mind it being in such close proximity? She cleared her throat.

"Uh, well there was this talent show in 6th grade and I totally deserved the win and then Peter showed me up," she explained hastily. "Ever since then, I've come second to him. He like, deliberately gets into the stuff I'm into so he can beat me."

Spidey's jaw dropped slightly. "B-But he's such a nice guy."

"That's what he wants you to think," she said. "He wants you to think he's nice and innocent to lure you into a false sense of security so he can ruin your life. Like, for instance, in freshmen year, before we took the tests for the decathlon team, he came up to me and said I was definitely going to beat him out for a spot and then I was below him by a fraction of a point. A fraction!"

Spidey frowned. "Is that why you're not on the decathlon team?"

Wendy's brow furrowed. "How do you know that?" His lips puckered into an 'o.' God, his lips were so distracting.

"Well, it's definitely not because I was asking Peter about you," he laughed forcefully. Her eyes lit up. He was asking about her. He wanted to know more about her. Her heart swelled. She could lean right in and kiss him if she wanted to.

Instead, she inquired, "Wait, what did Peter say about me?"

"He was a lot nicer than you were," Spidey scoffed.

She scowled. "Of course he was, that little shit." Spidey sucked in his bottom lip and she thought she might scream. He had to know what he was doing to her, right?

He leaned across the bed and pulled her laptop onto his lap. "What's this?"

"My homework for English," she replied with a little groan. "I have to write an essay all about me, which should be easy save for the fact that my life is horribly depressing and I don't want to think about it."

"We'll write it together," Spidey said affirmatively. "Let's see. 'My name is Wendy Margaret Carter-Greene. I am sixteen-years-old.' Good start. Okay, so, 'I am an exceptionally beautiful cheerleader with stunning eyes and nice legs.'"

"What was that?" she interrupted, trying to suppress a giggle. "Have you been looking at my legs, Pan?"

He squinted at her. "I have no idea what gave you that impression." The corners of his lips twitched. She shook her head playfully.

"Keep going," she pressed. "This has to be two pages."

He clicked his tongue. "Right, so 'I live in New York City. My best friend is Spider-Man.'"

"I think you're overestimating your importance to me," she interjected. He shot her as dirty a look as he could manage with his mask half-on.

\- start the song now -

"Rude," he admonished. She laughed and leaned into him. "'My best friend is Spider-Man. I spend my days being gorgeous and talking to Spider-Man. My talents include cheer and having a very nice face.'"

She playfully shoved him. "This is an essay, not my Tindr bio."

"Good," he retorted. "You don't need Tindr. In fact, 'I'm in love with Spider-Man. He is so handsome and kind and brave. One day we will get married and have lots of Spider-Babies.'"

She shrieked and yanked the laptop away from him, all the while exclaiming, "You are so full of yourself!" She tried to set the laptop back on the foot of her bed, but he made an attempt to grab it back. They ended up wrestling for control of the computer. His suit made him somewhat slippery and so it was a difficult endeavor to keep the laptop away from him. She managed to drop it onto the floor before rolling them over so she was on top.

They were laughing. Their bodies were intertwined. When had her legs started to straddle him? At what point during the struggle had her shirt rode up and the tip of his nose escaped his mask? Since when were their faces so close?

She decided not to question it.

She leaned in and pressed her lips against his. They were kissing. She was kissing Spider-Man. All of a sudden his hands were on her waist and their foreheads were touching. He tasted like churro and she guessed whatever fabric made up his mask. Her hands cupped his face, their lips moving in sync.

It was like the world melted away. The tightness in Wendy's chest dissolved. This was perfect. This made everything worth it. She'd thought she'd never find a high better than beating Peter Parker, but she was oh so wrong. One kiss and she was addicted. She wanted more. She wanted to never stop kissing him. She wanted his hands to move up-

When they finally broke apart, they were left gasping for air. Wendy's body was buzzing in a way she'd never experienced before. Her senses were overloaded with nothing but him. She could only taste his lips and feel his hands and his body beneath hers. She could only hear his heavy breathing and smell his suit. She could only see him, lying on her bed, trying to recover his breath.

They locked eyes and the world paused. Was this one of those moments Erin went on and on about? She wanted it to last forever, this moment of understanding between them that this friendship was not a friendship, not anymore. This moment of realization that they'd kissed, passionately, and they'd enjoyed it. They did enjoy it, didn't they? Wendy knew she enjoyed it, probably a bit too much for her own good. But did he enjoy it?

The moment was shattered when he slipped out from underneath and made a break for the window. He tossed a breathless, "I should get going," over his shoulder before leaving in a blur of red and blue. Wendy was left alone, abandoned in the world that moment had created for just the two of them. The momentary overwhelming warmth had gone and left her cold. Her eyes welled with tears.

He didn't enjoy the kiss.

He didn't just leave. He ran. He ran away as fast as he could from the small broken blonde who'd mistaken his polite kindness and jokes for genuine affection. She flopped down on her back, staring up at the ugly stained ceiling. He didn't like her. Certainly not like she liked him. She'd ruined everything yet again.

There was a knock at her door. Her dad's voice sounded, "Hey sweetheart, I just got home. What're you up to in there?"

She rubbed her face tiredly. "Homework. I'm just finishing up some homework."

"Well, when you're done, why don't you come out and tell me about your day, maybe help me with dinner?" he asked. She cringed. She just wanted to be left alone. She wanted to sit in this world built for two all by herself and cry. She never thought this would happen to her. Crying, over a _boy?_ It was ludicrous. And yet tears slipped down her cheeks and her shoulders shook.

"Yeah, sounds good," she replied half-heartedly. Homework. She was finishing up some homework. She grabbed her laptop from its place on the floor, deleted everything Spider-Man had typed, and, with a heavy heart, began to write.


End file.
